


Conflagration

by sinstralpride



Category: Jumper
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinstralpride/pseuds/sinstralpride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Burning wasn't their only game, but it was his favorite.</p><p>Companion to "Maelstrom"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conflagration

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in a weird place and instead of fighting it I embraced the madness. This is what resulted. Thanks to lovelessnoire for the beta!
> 
> Companion piece to "Maelstrom." They can both stand alone.

Griffin liked to look into his eyes as he fucked him, hurt him, ripped his soul to shreds and sent the pieces fluttering away on the breeze of panting breaths and whimpered cries. And David thought that maybe he liked it too.

 

Nothing but hollow shadows where his eyes might be, a vacant coffin in the dirt, forever empty. Too much taken away to ever feel full again, earning more satisfaction in their moments of vile honesty than from dealing something as simple as death. David didn’t mind giving as he received.

 

Consideration had no place between them in stale, defiled air. Scratches and bites quickly evolved into harsh gouging of tender flesh and the gleam of blood on Griffin’s lips. It was the only time he ever kissed David. Coppery tang not quite covering the taste of his loathing. David liked that too.

 

He liked the sting and sizzle of the hot wax. Not those pitiful little “low melt wax” candles, but the slow burn, emergency candles that melted so much hotter. It hurt just that much more, and more often than not, left a chain of scorched, blistered skin along the trail of possession. Proof of ownership.

 

Burning wasn’t their only game, but it was his favorite.

 

Sometimes, when that wasn’t enough, Griffin would burn him directly with his silver and burnished bronze lighter, emblazoned with a gryphon rising from the ashes. Heating the artful metal with a cheap Bic lighter, knowing it turned David on to be branded with the lighter he’d given him – with his symbol. Not caring that he burned himself in the process. He needed his own penance some days.

 

But the days David needed the pain that badly were few and far between.

 

Those days he’d be left pillaged and burned to the ground, everything of value stripped away and only the skeletal remains of what came before still standing. Head thrown back, tendons tight to the point of snapping, muscles so stiffened with painpleasurepenance they seemed rigored. He knew this was the real him. Tainted, selfish, damned. Torn down and empty, sins exposed and cleansed in the fire of doubt and pain and something that wasn’t really love.

 

F_uck _and_ ohgod please more _and _ahh oh fuck, please_ _it hurts, shit, please don’t stop _echoed hollowly in the dead space where affection and endearments should reside. Supplanting, overshadowing, _improving on_ the useless words he didn’t need or want… and would never receive.

 

Blood welling like tears of the damned, one arm arched over his head, fingers grasping the headboard in desperation, teeth buried in muscle of his own inner arm to quell his whimpers. The rougher the fuck, the better.

 

Griffin’s smile was half unholy joy and half sympathy, beautiful and perverse. But his hands never wavered, calm and steady as they plied their delightful craft over every swell and hollow of tantalizing flesh. There was a promise of shipwrecks and lost souls in his eyes, and that suited David just fine.

 

[FIN]


End file.
